Tell me where it hurts
by CaptiveFaRaMiRheart
Summary: Set a few months after House's infarction. Wilson deals with the pressure of his wife,and the need to take care of his friend.


A/N: I am assuming that Wilson was married to Bonnie during House's infarction. In "House Training" Bonnie said "You _always_ needed him, and he was always there for you"...this intrigued me deeply. MY FIRST HOUSE FIC! Please be nice!!!

If your slash senses are turned on, good. But this was is meant to be based on strong friendship. Either way, it works.

DISCLAIMER: Seriously, If I owned House and Wilson, Fox would have to sell the show to HBO...

It wasn't like he _wanted_ to sleep alone. It bothered him. The empty pillow and excess blankets almost never failed to say something like "This is all your fault" or "This is exactly what you wanted". Then some nights they would be quiet, and just stare at him, stripping him of his personal secrets. Wilson felt violated...and he hated it.

The familiar sound of his cell-phone went off, directing him back to his senses. He glanced at the clock, reading "2:12". He reached out, and grabbed his phone. The caller ID read "House".Without hesitation, He flipped open his phone.

"Yeah?"

"I need you," the sad but wise voice replied.

"I'll be there soon" he said, ending the conversation. I need you. This was all Gregory House had to say to catch his friend's attention. Wilson knew whatever he needed him for, it had to be something important. He promised him he would help him every step of the way. Nine months, dozens of prescriptions, a cane, and an ex-girlfriend later, Wilson was still with him.

He flipped the light switch on, and quickly dressed himself in comfortable clothing. Chances were, if House needed him at this time, he would most likely be spending the night. He didn't mind. At least he wouldn't have to deal with the humiliating words from the empty pillow and excess blankets.

He grabbed his keys, and headed downstairs. He saw a dim light producing from the living room. _So she couldn't sleep either_, Wilson thought. What a surprise. He hoped he could put on his shoes quick enough for her not to notice his presence. As anticipated, that was a worthless shot. She had turned her head to his direction.

"Where are you---"

"--Greg needs me," he interrupted, trying at best to save time and useless exchange of words. She sighed loudly, wanting him to hear it. He shot an annoyed look at her.

"You should be happy. Bed is all yours now."

"What?"

"--Unless you think the couch is more comforting" he added. Bonnie stood up, and walked towards him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"I don't want you to go," she said. Wilson shot her a surprising look at her.

"Um...and why---?"

"Because _I_ need you," she simply replied.

"No, you _don't_," he replied. She very well knew this was the truth. He had no idea what kind of word-game she was trying to play on him.

"You're unbelievable...unbelievable!" she shot at him. "What is it this time, he's too lazy to get himself water? Locked himself up in his room? Needs a shower, has to take a _shit_ but can't even wipe his own ass?"

"He just had an infarction in his leg! He can't function well!" Wilson yelled, throwing his hands up in the air.

"So your friendship with that man is more valuable than our marriage?"

Wilson sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He intentionally softened his voice, attempting to get her out of his way. "We'll deal with this sometime later, Bonnie---"

"NO!" she cut in, yelling in his face. "This will be dealt with NOW!" She grabbed his car keys, and threw them across the room. Wilson opened his mouth to say something, but she was quicker.

"This isn't even about him anymore. This is about us! You know, I can't even remember the last time we had sex?"

Wilson's brows creased in annoyance. "What do you call last week?!"

"Unwanted, dry physical contact between 2 people! You couldn't even look at me for the rest of the evening! What the hell was that about?!"

"WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT?!" Wilson roared.

"Meaning!", she cried back. "I want to know that we have meaning!"

Wilson put his hands to his face, and silently counted to 3. She was impossible, and he wasn't going do deal with it anymore. He waited until his adrenaline and heart-rate slowed down, before uncovering his face. Slowly, he walked towards the floor where his keys had been lying. He picked them up, then slowly walked back to her.

"Did it ever occur to you that I am just as much confused as you are?" he whispered to her. She kept her head down, controlling her breathing. "I think we both know that distance is the only thing that can help us now...He's my friend, and he's going through a crisis right now...I'll only be a few hours,"

"Just go, James"

"Bonnie--"

"_Go_" she said with a little more force and emotion. She turned her back to him and headed back toward the couch.

A few 30 minutes later, Wilson arrived at House's apartment. All thoughts of Bonnie removed from his mind. His senses softened, and his caring instincts came into play. In this very apartment was where he was really needed. He reached out from his pocket and he let himself in with his key.

"House", he called out, softly. He closed the door behind him, and walked towards the couch. House was lying down, hands covering his face. Wilson bent down, carefully peeling away his hand from his face. He had been crying.

"What's wrong?"

House's breathing was shaky and shallow. "It hurts" he whispered.

"Have you taken your medication?" Wilson asked, knowing the answer was obviously yes.

"No, I mean...it really hurts"

_It really hurts _nights were the worst. This was probably the only time where House would ever cry because of it. _It really hurts_ meant that it really was that bad. That he didn't need his medication, or an extra pillow, or some type of entertainment...he just needed him there.

"Alright," Wilson whispered. "...alright" he repeated, and sighed. House's eyes were closed, but even if those heavenly-blue eyes weren't looking at him, Wilson could see the pain.

"I hate her, Wilson," He whispered, through gritted teeth, gripping the sides of the blanket that covered him. "I _hate_ her." Wilson nodded, his vision becoming blurred. He began stroking his friend's hair, trying to calm him in anyway. He completely disagreed, though. House loved everything about Stacy. He hated her because he still loved her. He hated missing her presence.

"Its going to be alright," Wilson reassured. House shook his head. "No, you don't know that," he whispered. Wilson couldn't help but feel sorry. He couldn't bear to see his friend in this state. He moved closer, and gathered him in his arms. House laid his weary head on his shoulder, crying freely. If_ only I could help with just a portion of your burden_...He could almost feel his bones, and wondered when was the last time House had properly eaten.

"No, I don't know that," Wilson finally replied. "But I do know that I will be right here," he said, with force, stroking his hair still. "I'm not going anywhere, Greg". He moved onto the couch, careful not to disturb his leg. House rested his head against his chest, choking back sobs and cries of pain. Wilson held him, slowly rocking him to sleep. Like a poor child. Like a lost soul. As soon as he began to hear soft even breaths, he knew House was asleep, but he held him still, eventually falling asleep too.

Wilson did not call Bonnie the following morning. Nor did he come home the very next day. Home was here, with his wounded friend. With someone who actually wanted him, and needed him. House never said the things that Bonnie said. House never called him a suck-up, and teased him for actually caring. House accepted him for who he was, and that comforted Wilson. This made him have more meaning than what Bonnie could ever provide.

A/N: Review, please! Hate me, love me, just write something! Bless your heart, and thanks!


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